


New Ground

by PepperF



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deviation in the Stargate story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surreallis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreallis/gifts).



> For surreallis, on her birthday. Canon shmanon. *smooches*

The Colonel was giving her a Look again. Sam kept her eyes firmly forwards, and gritted her teeth. If he didn't stop it soon, she was gonna... she was gonna... well, do something seriously non-regulation. Current favorite being beating him repeatedly around the head with her briefing notes, whilst yelling 'Stop Looking at me! It was a mistake! I don't know how to deal with you any more!' To prevent this potential infraction of Air Force rules, she shot him a venomous glare. He looked surprised, and then seemed to realize what he was doing. He dropped his eyes to the table. Sam rolled her eyes. Yes, this was exactly why they had the regulations.

Of course, he'd had the excuse that he'd been away from the regulations for three long (long, long, _long_ ) months. She had the excuse of sleep-deprivation – although a tiny voice in her mind piped up that it was more the case of Colonel-deprivation that was at fault, here. Whatever it was, her rationality had been compromised – she should have just waved goodbye to Laira and the rest of the Edorans, packed them off through the Gate, welcomed the Colonel back with a hearty handshake, listened to his not-entirely-convincing moaning about being in loco parentis for a teenaged boy for three months, and gone home to sleep. She shouldn't have agreed to go to the Colonel's house to celebrate, even if it was with Teal'c and Daniel. She shouldn't have let the Colonel drive her, just because she was exhausted, and he was so looking forward to motor-driven vehicles again. She certainly shouldn't have fallen asleep on his couch within about half an hour of arriving at his house.

When she'd woken in the night to find him staring at her from the entrance to his living room, she should have just smiled and gone back to sleep. She shouldn't have sat up, and tried to get him to talk. She shouldn't have leaned on his shoulder, when he sat next to her – but he'd been so warm, and she'd still been so tired, and she'd missed him so much... When he'd thanked her for getting him back, in a low voice that she felt through his sternum, she shouldn't have tilted her head up, knowing he was that close, knowing they were both feeling vulnerable.

Yeah, so apparently she had issues with the kiss. Or should that be kisses? There had certainly been a lot of kissing involved, and even some tongues...

Dammit, now she was giving him a Look.

She forced her gaze down towards the briefing room table. Now was not the time to be giving her commanding officer a Look. For heaven's sake, Hammond was in the room. Not to mention their chronically perceptive team-mates.

She chanced a look around, but fortunately everyone else's eyes were on Teal'c, Daniel, and their new alien friend, Nyan, who were bouncing the debriefing between them. She and the Colonel hadn't done much on the mission except get captured and zapped. Not their finest hour. Jack was paying no attention to the debrief, but this wasn't any different to his normal behavior, except that he was giving her that Look again. Oh, he was so gonna get it, if he got them noticed. She'd do something sneaky, like maybe put some of that sticky Poison Ivy-type stuff from P5J 975 in his spare BDUs. She could easily break into his locker. He'd be itching for weeks.

They hadn't talked about it; neither had they done any more of it. 'It' being that kissing stuff. She sighed, caught herself, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. No — no one but the Colonel. He tipped his head minutely to one side, and raised his eyebrows: he was asking why she'd sighed. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, and twitched her eyebrows: she wanted to do more of it, that was the problem. He smiled understandingly: so did he. But they couldn't say so out loud, even in private or off-base. Technically, they shouldn't even be thinking it, but fortunately no one at the SGC could actually read minds — even if Hammond gave a good impression of doing so, sometimes. It was lucky she and Jack could read each other so well, or she'd be freaking out, wondering what he was thinking, planning... Okay, so she didn't know what he was planning — if anything — but at least she was pretty clear on what he thought. He was as frustrated as she was.

Just after Edora, they'd had an excuse... of sorts. He'd been kind-of-sort-of-not-yet-officially back in charge of SG-1, and she'd definitely been suffering from sleep-deprivation. It was a feeble excuse, and would never have stood up if Hammond or — god forbid — her father ever got to hear about it, but it was her excuse and dammit she was sticking to it. Then there'd been the whole thing with the stolen technology, and god, but that had about given her a coronary, wondering what the hell was going on with him, and if she was in some way responsible. She'd spent a week steeling herself to go speak to him, but fortunately, before she could, he'd disappeared offworld, and returned triumphantly with the rogue NID agents. And she was never, ever underestimating General Hammond's acting abilities again.

But now the situation was very definitely back to normal. Only she was beginning to wonder if that was really possible. Not with work – that was easy — and god, she'd missed working with him. No, what she couldn't forget was what it was like to, uh, interact with him on a more personal, one-to-one basis.

Translated: she couldn't stop thinking about kissing him.

There had been the thing with the caveman disease, of course, but that had been so long ago, and she'd barely known him. Enough to want his babies, apparently (and if she lived to be as old as Thor she still wouldn't live that down), but not enough to know anything about his life outside the SGC. She'd found him attractive — she wasn't blind, and oh, those eyes, that smile... – but she hadn't wanted to actually do anything about that attraction. Not when she was in her right mind, anyhow.

This was different. This was a man she'd known for nearly four years. A friend. Someone with whom she'd experienced some of the best and worst moments of her life. There were years of history there, ranging from dramatic moments of saving lives and saving planets, right down to beers with the boys and games of full-contact Scrabble on his deck. And still, oh those eyes, that smile...

Her eyes focused suddenly on the paper in front of her, and she swallowed a curse. What was she, fourteen? Across the paper, in one continuous, repetitive line, she'd scrawled 'jackjackjackjackjack'. Discreetly, she slid her pad off the table, tore off the top sheet, and folded it neatly, slipping it into her pocket. Not something she wanted to leave lying around.

"Major Carter, do you have anything to add?"

Startled, she raised her head and tried to look as though she'd been listening all along. "No, sir."

General Hammond gave her a Look that meant something completely different to the Look the Colonel had been giving her. "Very well," was all he said, however. "I believe you've all earned some time off, so enjoy your weekends."

Sam contemplated her plans for the weekend. She'd been putting off dealing with the three months of neglect her house had suffered, whilst she worked her ass off trying to bring the Colonel home. She needed to spring-clean. She wrinkled her nose. Oh, joy. Maybe she could find an excuse — no, not an excuse, a _reason_ — to come into work.

She followed her team out, and Daniel fell back to talk to her. He nudged her with his shoulder. "Where were you?"

"Huh?"

"In the briefing. You were miles away."

"Oh. Yes." She thought furiously. "I was... it's just a bit weird, getting back into the old routine, you know?"

He smiled understandingly. "I know what you mean. It was strange, not having Jack here. And now it's strange having him back. You going to Jack's this weekend?"

Her eyes shot to him, startled. "Hmm?" she asked, determinedly neutral.

"The see-I'm-not-a-bad-guy-and-I-love-you-guys-really-even-though-I'm-a-pathetic-bastard -and-will-never-say-so-out-loud get-together, remember? You are planning on coming to that, right?"

Dammit, she was gonna be so busted if she kept overreacting like that. "Oh! Yes. Yes, definitely. I'd forgotten. Thinking about the house cleaning I've got planned."

Daniel narrowed his eyes at her. "You know I love you like a sister and would do anything for you but am in no way going to get dragged into helping you clean your house — right?"

She smiled. "I know, Daniel. I don't want your help, anyway. Not after last time."

"How was I to know you'd rigged your hall cupboard?" he objected.

"It wasn't rigged! There was just a lot of... stuff in it. Everyone has a cupboard like that."

"Most people, however, might warn their friends about such cupboards, instead of sending them in for dusters completely unsuspecting and unprepared. Without backup, even."

She wrapped an arm around him, hugging him. "I love you, Daniel," she said, soupily.

"Ah, you're just saying that 'cause you want me to help clean your house."

"I _so_ don't."

\---

In the end, all three of them turned up on Sunday morning (with hangovers from Saturday's excesses) to help. She parceled out cleaning supplies, and let the Colonel take charge of her tiny garden, because he'd only bitch if she made him wash windows. At noon she put a pile of sandwiches and chips on her kitchen table, pointed Daniel and Teal'c in the direction of the fridge for juice, beer and sodas, and went in search of the Colonel.

She found him in the garage, putting away the lawnmower. He had a smudge of dirt across one cheek, his hair was wildly ruffled, he smelled of sweat and soap and gasoline and freshly-cut grass, and she was powerless to resist when he pushed her back against the garage door and kissed her. He was radiating heat. His hands clutched at her waist, then roamed restlessly across her back. The moan she gave as he trailed kisses down her neck was completely involuntary. She told herself to stay still, but her hands were on his shoulders already, pulling him closer, gripping and massaging as if they had a life of their own. "Oh, god... Jack..."

"Sam..."

"We can't do th-this. We have to... oh, that's nice... stop..."

"No stopping. Stopping no." He bit down gently on her jugular, open-mouthed, and teased her throat with his tongue. Her knees went weak, and every single nerve ending tingled. Wow. He was seriously good at that. She tried to configure a sensible sentence.

"We should be goooooh... good."

"I am good," mumbled Jack, nibbling along her collarbone. "Very, very good."

He was entirely too composed, she decided. Too unruffled. Too able to string sentences together whilst reducing her to a quivering pile of need. Well, two could... oh _god_... play at that game. She swiftly reversed their positions, pinning him against the garage door with hands, hips and legs, and used teeth and lips and tongue on his willing skin until he was making helpless little sounds that, god help her, she found adorable.

She kissed him just below his left ear, and his head jerked back, smacking against the door. He twisted his hands free from her grip, and captured her lips with his own, wrapping arms and a leg around her to pull her tightly against him. It still wasn't close enough. When they finally paused, gasping for breath and so turned on they could barely see straight, she leaned her cheek against his and closed her eyes. She could feel the rapid beat of his pulse, twinned with her own. For a while they stood there, trying to calm down before this went too far. The question being, how far was too far? And hadn't they already passed that point?

"Jack... what're we doing?"

"Making out, duh. I thought you were s'posed to be a genius."

She smacked him — fondly — on the shoulder. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he admitted, with a sigh. "I guess. I don't know, Sam, I really don't. But I can't seem to stop."

She nodded. "Me either."

He settled his arms around her in an embrace that was more comforting than erotic, and relaxed against the door. "So does that mean we're... doing this?"

"You want to retire again?" She smiled at his startled look. "Don't worry, I don't want you to retire either. And I don't want to resign, or get reassigned."

"So...?"

"So," she said. She gripped his belt tightly, to hide the trembling of her hands. "Yeah. Looks like we're doing this."

His fingers were running gently through her hair, smoothing it back, a stroking gesture that she found comforting, then felt guilty for finding comforting, then felt stupid for feeling guilty. He leaned closer, and she thankfully let him break her train of thought. "Sam," he whispered against her hair. It wasn't a question, or the start of a sentence. It was just her name, on his lips. Just because. She leaned closer, and kissed him again.

They restrained themselves, this time, and broke apart before it escalated. Sam kept her eyes closed, just breathing in his smell, marking in her memory every sensation of this moment. She tried to work out what she was feeling. Terror, certainly, and guilt, mixed with pleasure, excitement, and desire. But most of all she felt that strange, wistful, fluttery twist to her insides that he had always inspired in her. The most unmilitary of feelings, subsuming all others. It was an intoxicating combination. "Sam?"

"Mmm?" She leaned back to see him properly. He looked serious, and terror made a swift comeback. He looked deep into her eyes, and asked her the question that hovered on his lips.

"Is there any food in your house? I'm starving."

She laughed, feeling tension leave her body. Okay – she needed to relax a little. "Yeah. Well, I think so." She'd completely lost all sense of how long they'd been out here. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and his hands rubbed possessively across her back. "Daniel and Teal'c might have eaten it all by now."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was so pleasant to hear his voice from this angle. She considered kissing him again. It probably wasn't a good idea, if she wanted to leave her garage today. "I was otherwise occupied."

"Ah, you were distracted by my overwhelming hotness — it happens," he said, smugly.

"Oh, for god's sake," she muttered into his collar. "Is this what you're going to be like?"

"You know you like it."

"Put up with it," she corrected.

"Like it."

He had all the social graces of a five-year-old. "We'd better go back in, before Daniel and Teal'c come looking." She stepped away from him, startlingly unwilling to let go. From the way his hands lingered as he let her go, she knew he felt as reluctant. She tried to tidy herself up a bit, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Thank god she'd been looking messy already – this sort of behavior would have totally mauled her Dress Blues. She made a mental note to never let him kiss her when they were dressed formally. And then her mind froze. What was she _thinking_?

"Carter, stop it," he said, commandingly. She looked up enquiringly. "Thinking," he explained.

"I can't stop thinking!"

"Okay, so think about something else."

She eyed him. He'd already been a scruffy mess when she came out, but thanks to their mutual, um, roughhousing, he was now looking even more disheveled. His hair was nuts, and she hesitated a moment before reaching out and smoothing it a little. He leaned into her caress, like a contented cat, and watched her through heavy-lidded eyes. God, he was gorgeous. And he thought she should stop thinking about it? "Like that's gonna happen," she grumbled.

"You're cute when you're grumpy," he said. She shot him a glare.

"Are you trying to make it easier for me to act like I'm not attracted to you? Because it's working."

He grinned, unrepentantly. "You _so_ like it," he said.

Fighting down the urge to give her not-so-superior officer a kick in the shins, she peered out of the garage door. "I think it's clear. Come on, _sir_." She glanced back. "Try not to look so much like the cat that ate the canary," she advised. "Teal'c and Daniel aren't completely unobservant."

"They're gonna guess," he shrugged, not seeming too worried, as he followed her out into the garden. Truth be told, she wasn't that worried, either. Somehow, she didn't think Teal'c or Daniel would think any the less of them for giving up this particular fight.

"Well, I'd like to at least try to keep them in the dark," she said, sternly. "For their own sakes, if nothing else."

"Okay, sure. No telling. But you know you're just putting it off. They'll work it out. And when they do, they'll tease us. Mercilessly."

She paused at the door, and looked back. "You," she said. "They'll tease _you_. They'll just ask me if I've completely lost my mind," she added, rubbing it in. He wasn't the only one who could be smug. She dived into the house before he could answer. "Lawnmower problems," she said casually, to the enquiring glances sent her way. "Have you left any food?"

"Some," Daniel said, looking from her to Jack but not voicing any suspicion he may or may not have had. "You're out of sodas."

"Damn. Even the Diet Coke?"

"There's always the Diet Coke." Daniel wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No one but you drinks that stuff."

"Yeah, well it's the only way I can keep something in my fridge safe from you lot. I don't know why I let you eat me out of house and home." She glanced at the remains of the sandwiches, and went to make some more.

"Cleaning," Daniel reminded her, waving a duster in her direction. "Dusting, polishing, vacuuming..."

"My own personal set of servants."

Teal'c and Daniel exchanged a look. "I've been demoted," observed Jack.

"Do we get paid?"

"As many sandwiches as you can eat," called Sam from the kitchen.

Teal'c shrugged. "I have had worse jobs."

"This is Sam's cooking we're talking about," Daniel reminded him, loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Oh, she's not that bad," said Jack, casually.

Daniel grimaced. "You're just saying that because... Actually, I have no clue why you would say something like that. Not even being besotted by her could possibly justify it." Jack very carefully did not look startled. "She hasn't got some kind of blackmail material on you, has she?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Sam asked, coming back in with a plate of sandwiches. She handed the plate to Jack, and took one herself. "It's the mind control device I've been working on in my spare time."

Teal'c tilted an eyebrow. " _Mind_ control?" he asked, and looked pointedly at Jack.

"Hey!"

A campaign of senseless violence ensued, and they ended up having to clean Sam's house twice.

\---

It was a magical evening. It was a magical planet.

As they walked back to the Stargate, the stars lit their way. Above them gleamed the magnificent swirls and clouds of various astral phenomena - nebulae in flowerlike shades, sweeping bands of stars, the graceful curve of pastel moons, all looking close enough and clear enough to touch. Even Jack was entranced, and would have been more than happy to stay and do a little stargazing - if Apophis's troops hadn't just departed. They couldn't take the chance of a return visit.

They'd been relieved when they'd seen the Goa'uld mothership take off. Not only for the obvious reason - that Apophis was making a strategic withdrawal, tail between his legs, ass soundly whipped - but also because it meant that Oma Desala had chosen not to kill the two thousand-odd Jaffa who would have landed with the ship. That would have somehow tainted the magic of this beautiful planet.

Of course, she (was she a 'she'?) had killed the troops who threatened them, and struck down a couple of tel'tacs, but those had been on the attack. It was a fine distinction, but one that SG-1 - and Oma, apparently - chose to make.

There was no real sense of urgency as they walked. Of course, it was possible that Apophis might come back, and if he did, they would be in trouble, as Oma had long since left through the Stargate herself, with the Harsesis child. But it seemed unlikely. The Goa'uld wouldn't know she'd gone, for a start - and they didn't tend to tangle with impossible odds if they could possibly find a way to lie, cheat or connive their way around it instead.

Sam and Jack had fallen behind. Teal'c, Bra'tac and Daniel walked ahead, excitedly discussing and dissecting the encounter with the ascended being. She was a religious icon to the Jaffa, and was already revered almost as much by Daniel. Sam and Jack were both a little more skeptical, but both had to admit their awe at the power she had displayed. A power they were happy not to have directed in anger at them. However, the two Air Force officers found they were dwelling on the aspect of their little encounter that seemed to have been so easily forgotten by the others: how close to death they'd just come.

It wasn't just the overwhelming odds - and despite their reputation, two thousand Jaffa were a little much for even SG-1 to handle, even with the help of Master Bra'tac. They had confronted some of Apophis's troops. They had been fired on. And, but for the miraculous intervention of a higher being, that would have been it. The big one. The final curtain. Alone, they would have stood no chance. SG-1 had not saved themselves - not this time. They had done nothing except lay down their weapons and accept their fate.

It was a hard thing for career soldiers to do. Especially ones such as Jack and Sam, who were fully prepared to go down fighting, if and when it came to it.

Sam, unexpectedly, was the one to first break the silence that had fallen between them. "Sir?"

Jack looked sideways at her. "Carter?"

She smiled at herself - at both of them. "Jack," she corrected herself, deliberately. Jack's eyebrows shot up. He'd noticed the pattern to her use of his name. It seemed to come readily to her lips the moment they were doing anything regulation-breaking - giving him a clear sign that she didn't intend to be subordinate to him in their personal lives. He was happy with this state of affairs. Hell, he was ecstatic about this state of affairs. This state of affairs was the best thing that had happened to him in years. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Doing-? No. Why?"

She couldn't read, in the gloom, the expression on his face. It made it simultaneously easier and more difficult to ask: "I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner."

Jack's pulse quickened. God, did she mean-? "Dinner-?" Dammit, he was starting to sound like an echo. "I'd love to!" he said hastily, then was embarrassed at the enthusiasm with which he'd spoken. "Uh, I mean, yeah, that'd be good."

Sam grinned to herself. At least she wasn't the only one.

Jack grabbed her hand suddenly, and looked swiftly at the Jaffa and Daniel, striding ahead. Then he pulled her into the shade of a tree, wrapping his arms about her and leaning his back against the trunk. She went willingly, relaxed in his embrace. He didn't kiss her. "Do you mean...?" He couldn't find a way to phrase the question without sounding crude. Fortunately she understood.

"Yes."

He swallowed nervously. It was a step they hadn't yet taken, and he was willing – good god, was he willing - but... "Are you sure?"

She spoke honestly. "No."

"Sam, if you're not sure-"

"I'll never be sure, not whilst... not whilst the situation is what it is. But I want this," she whispered. "You remember Antarctica?"

"How could I forget?" he grimaced.

"Back then, I said I wouldn't have any regrets about dying. I really meant it at the time. But today, when I thought we were going to die... I had regrets. Well, one regret in particular."

Jack stared at her for a long time before he found his voice. "Never having cooked me dinner?"

Sam shook her head minutely. "No."

One of his hands had crept up to cradle the back of her neck, fingers sinking into her warm hair. Her eyes glittered in the light of strange stars. "You're very beautiful," he said, in all seriousness.

She'd had plenty of people - usually aliens, in recent years - tell her she was beautiful, in a variety of ways and with a variety of extravagant gestures. None of them had cut through her the way his simple words did. "Thank you."

"Jack? Sam!" They'd been missed at last.

She pressed a kiss to his lips – far too briefly, as far as he was concerned. "I'd always wanted to do that offworld." She leaned closer, teasing his lips with her own. "Tonight?" she breathed.

"O'Neill! Major Carter!"

He nodded, eyes drifting dizzily closed. "Tonight." His hand on the back of her neck pressed her closer, for a swift, fierce kiss, and then they were out from the shelter of the tree, back on the trail. "What?" he yelled, self-consciously straightening his jacket. Fortunately the others were still quite far ahead, and it was dark.

"Oh, there you are! I thought we'd lost you!"

"If only," muttered Jack, glancing at Sam to see if he'd made her smile. He had.

"What?"

"Nothing, Daniel!"

The two Jaffa and Daniel slowed down, giving Sam and Jack time to catch up. All five walked on in silence, enjoying the peace of the planet. Bra'tac glanced back at the two Air Force officers, and then exchanged a look with Teal'c. "A beautiful night, is it not?" he said loudly, and looked at Jack.

Jack looked surprised. "Yes," he said. "Uh, nice planet."

"Such a romantic sky," said Bra'tac, expansively. "It makes me feel like a young man of eighty again." Sam and Jack glanced at each other. 'Eighty?' mouthed Jack. "Ah, those were the days. Back then, I had a woman on every planet."

Jack looked disturbed. "Uh, that's... enlightening, Bra'tac," he said. "Thanks. Eighty, you say?"

"Indeed. I was a virile young Jaffa, back then." He winked at Sam, who chuckled. "But now I am just an old man, who has lost all his appeal to the female sex," he added, mournfully.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Sam. Bra'tac gave Jack a smug look.

"Okay, okay, enough," snapped Jack. He glared at Sam, then at Bra'tac. "You can just... stop that."

Bra'tac looked innocent. "Forgive me," he said. "I did not realise that I was causing offence."

"I'm not offended," said Jack, defensively. "Just... really, really creeped out."

Bra'tac faced forward so Jack wouldn't see him smirking. Humans. They were just so easy to provoke.

\---

The sky was lightening, turning a silvery grey that spoke of clouds and rain. It was morning. In a few minutes her alarm would go off. But Sam wasn't thinking about that.

She wasn't thinking about the weather, or about the alarm, or about fixing breakfast, or about what clothes she'd wear, or about whether her car was going to start. She wasn't thinking about the technological metallic jigsaw puzzle artifact thing SG-7 had brought her, or about the report she still had to write, or about the impending mission.

Jack was running one finger up and down her shoulder, in a lazy but ceaseless caress.

"Sam?"

"Mm?"

"Whatcha thinking?"

She smiled, sighed, and closed her eyes against the light, snuggling closer into his warmth. "Nothing," she told him. "Absolutely nothing."

"Oh. Wow. I didn't know you could do that."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged. "Now you know."

They lay in silence for a while. "Sam?" he asked again.

"Yeah?"

His finger brushed up her shoulder, along her neck and jawline, into her hair, whilst he considered his words. "Nothin'. I was just... checking."

That tiny pause, that small hesitancy, told her more than any amount of words. She tightened her arm around his waist a tiny bit. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, feeling an irrational urge to do something, anything, for him. "Glass of water?"

"I'm okay."

"Sure?"

He rolled suddenly, and her world darkened as he blocked the light, imprisoning her in the warmth of his arms. "I don't need anything else," he said, expression as serious as she'd ever seen it. They stared at one another for a while, enclosed in their own little world. His thumbs stroked the hair from her temples. "No regrets?" he asked, eventually.

Sam smiled. "No," she confirmed, decisively. "Not one."

\---

END.


End file.
